


Of clothes swaps, and temples

by mofumanju



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Writing Commission, after sex - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mofumanju/pseuds/mofumanju
Summary: “... that’s my sweater.”“It is,” Eichi answers, raising his arms and turning around himself, a child on Christmas showing his best present. “It felt so alone on the floor, so I picked it up and brought it with me in the bathroom. Honestly, Keito, it suits me better. You should give it to me.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penkipenguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penkipenguin/gifts).



> Ok.  
> This is a commission, because there's someone out there who still believes in my skills, and I couldn't be more grateful. ;_; Request was "sleepovers and clothes swap", I just added a bit of sexy time because Eichi is a brat and well, established keichi is ♥ so please, ♥ it too.  
> (If you're interested in asking me to write for you, you can find me at @[mofumanju](http://twitter.com/mofumanju), just know that I'll probably scream and tell you a thousand times if you're sure of it. /DIES

The sweet scent of bath foam is slowly invading Eichi’s room, as he opens the door of the bathroom - Keito can hear him humming softly, his gentle voice brushing his ears and putting his heart at ease. There’s still his presence lingering on the empty side of the bed, the sheets still crumpled where Eichi’s body lied just a handful of minutes before. Keito brushes it with the tip of his fingers, while he tries to resist the urge to fall asleep, lulled by Eichi’s voice, lulled by the scent of his body that still invades the air around the bed. He brushes the mattress; it’s still warm, like his body that still floats in post-climax bliss, and he closes his eyes, losing himself for a moment in the whole set of Eichi’s flushed looks that Keito saved in the back of his mind.   
  
He’s glad Eichi can’t see what is inside his head.

Keito dozes off - _just a few minutes_ , he tells himself before his lids throw a shadow before his eyes, and the world turns comfortably dark. It’s a nice feeling, the sweet shiver of numbness running through his legs, spreading on his chest and making him feel on the top of a cloud, more than in a bed he just shared with his lover. The feeling is so good through his body that Keito is sure he will soon fall asleep, wrapped in the comforting warm of the duvet that covers half of his body.   
  
Well, it’s Eichi fault for taking so long, anyway.

The sounds around him start to fade, losing in the pattering of the rain on the window; he can still hear the sound of the hair dryer coming from the bathroom, the soft rumbling of a thunder in the distance - he’s glad he’s staying there for the night, safe under the roof of the Tenshouin’s mansion, safe in a bed that’s slowly becoming his own. It’s the thought of sharing the night with Eichi that makes him feel warm despite his absence - something he would never tell by voice, but well, it’s not like Eichi doesn’t know.  
He can feel his breath becoming a bit heavier, and Keito is about to surrender, when something warm runs through his hair, a soft laugh brushing his face.  
  
“Wakey wakey Keito-kun. The night is still young,” Eichi whispers on his ear, pinching the soft skin of his cheek, and when Keito opens his eyes he doesn’t see Eichi’s face because it’s way too close now. It’s just a brush on his forehead, so soft and almost strange after the love they consumed before, and that’s what makes it even sweeter. When he regains full consciousness, it takes Keito a few moments to realise that something is wrong with Eichi’s clothes.

“... that’s my sweater.”  
  
“It is,” Eichi answers, raising his arms and turning around himself, a child on Christmas showing his best present. “It felt so alone on the floor, so I picked it up and brought it with me in the bathroom. Honestly, Keito, it suits me better. You should give it to me.”   
  
He’s about to reply, ready to fight if necessary - he doesn’t even care if Eichi is right, because ugh, he _is right_ , but Keito won’t give him the pleasure to know they think alike about that damned sweater - but then his eyes glue on Eichi hugging his neck, his head bending a bit on the small nest of his arms, and words fail him. “It smells of you.”  
Just a few words and his ears are already burning, a bit because of embarrassment, a bit because really, how in the world can someone look so sweet, so vulnerable, and utterly _terrifying_ at the same time? Eichi steps towards him again and gets in the bed, bare legs closing in a grip around Keito’s thighs as he leans towards him. Keito is wide awake now, Eichi’s clean scent brushing his nose, invading his lungs in an instant. His face is so close that Keito can see any slight detail, he can see golden staws shining in his blue irises, the small hint of purple beneath his eyes. He cups his head between his hands, gently forcing Eichi to bend another bit to close the distance. Taking Eichi’s lower lip between his own is pure bliss, the only thing he needs when it’s storming outside, when it’s storming inside his heart. The taste of his mouth, open against his, spread over his tongue - and it doesn’t taste of cake, it doesn’t taste of peach and strawberries like he often reads in _manga_ , in all those cheesy novels that passed through his hands; Eichi tastes like Eichi, a vague memory of the tea they drunk before getting to his room still lingering on his tongue, but the rest is impossible to define, because there is nothing in the world Keito can compare to that. Eichi tastes like Eichi, tastes of first kisses shared when tree leaves are turning red, tastes of that kind of comfort that Keito can only find inside a temple.   
  
Eichi’s mouth is a temple, after all. It’s something he can’t help worshipping, even if just the idea sounds blasphemous. He gently sucks his lip, brushing it with the tip of his tongue, and for a moment Keito is lost in the kiss, lost in the slow, teasing movement of Eichi’s hips against his stomach. It lasts just a moment, though, because Eichi slips away from his mouth when he lets escape a moan, and kisses his lips with a soft smack. When Keito opens his eyes, the little demon his smiling, showing the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “Joking,” he singsongs, a hand sliding over his chest, “there’s plenty of time for that later. Now I want you to leave the bed and come downstairs with me, I want to bake a cake.”

“... now? Eichi it’s almost one in the morning,” Keito complains, while he runs an hand over his hair. “Also, aren’t sleepovers for pillow talks and scary movies?”  
“That’s boring,” and his statement is so clear that Keito really doesn’t know how to reply. “And the prospect of getting your face dirty with flour and cream sounds way more appealing, doesn’t it?”   
  
Eichi straightens a bit, sitting on Keito’s thighs and brushing his chest with a hand. Sometimes, Keito would like to have the strength to hate him, because he would deserve it in moments like this one. But really, that smile enlightens Eichi’s face so much that, more than hate, Keito can feel love blooming again there, where Eichi’s fingers are resting. He sighs, shaking his head.

“Only if you’ll clean up, later.”

“It was my intention. Now, go and take a shower. I’ll wait for you.”  
  
“What about my sweater?”  
  
“I’m keeping it, of course. But you can use mine, it’s in the bathroom. I’m pretty sure it will suit you well, more than this ugly, horrible one.”  
  
“And still you’re wearing it.”  
  
“Of course,” and Eichi is fast, leaning against him once again, lips that brush a bit and leave just the faint phantom of a kiss. “Because it’s yours.”

Keito sighs again, as he looks Eichi jumping off the bed and leaving him alone, his voice filling the air with a joyful song they both know way too well. He sits on the bed, catching the last glimpse of Eichi’s body before he disappears behind the door, and he groans when he finds the strength to leave the bed, and put his feet on the ground. It’s cold against the palm of his feet - it sends him a shiver that runs through his body, and makes him regret just the idea to get up. But he shakes his head, resigned, and in a few steps he reaches the bathroom Eichi was in before, naked and chilled. It’s so good, that the air inside the bathroom is still warm, because otherwise Keito would have died, he’s sure of that. He takes his time to relax a bit, before stepping in the shower, and then, just before that, his eyes are attracted by something red on the hamper.   
  
“Ah,” he murmurs, taking a step back to move closer the sweater Eichi was wearing that evening - and he smiles, bending his head a bit, just a bit, just to let his nose brush against the fabric.

It smells of Eichi.   
  
It smells of home.


End file.
